Suicidal Thoughts – The Notorious B.I.G.: Songtexte, Musikvideos & Konzerte

The Notorious B.I.G.

Suicidal Thoughts

1.036.279

Hip-Hop/Rap

Suicidal Thoughts wurde am 13. September 1994 von Bad Boy Records als Teil des Albums veröffentlichtReady To Die the Remaster

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Songdetails

Beliebteste

Letzte 7 Tage

00:40 - 00:45

Suicidal Thoughts wurde in der vergangenen Woche am häufigsten etwa 40 sekunden nach des Songs entdeckt

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SONG-INFO

SONGTEXTE

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS

The Notorious B.I.G.

The Notorious B.I.G.

Vocals

COMPOSITION & LYRICS

The Notorious B.I.G.

The Notorious B.I.G.

Songwriter

Christopher Wallace

Christopher Wallace

Songwriter

Robert Jr Hall

Songwriter

PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING

Lord Finesse

Producer

B. Brockman

Mixing Engineer

Songtexte

[Verse 1]

When I die, **** it I wanna go to hell

'Cause I'm a piece of **** it ain't hard to **** tell

It don't make sense going to heaven with the goodie, goodies

Dressed in white, I like black Tims and black hoodies

God will probably have me on some real strict ****

No sleeping all day, no getting my **** licked

Hanging with the goodie, goodies, lounging in paradise

**** that ****, I wanna toke, ****, and shoot dice

All my life, I've been considered as the worst

Lying to my mother, even stealing out her purse

Crime after crime, from drugs to extortion

I know my mother wish she get a **** abortion

She don't even love me like she did when I was younger

Sucking on **** chest just to stop my **** hunger

I wonder if I died, would tears come to her eyes?

Forgive me for my disrespect, forgive me for my lies

[Verse 2]

My baby mother's eight months, my little sister's two

Who's to blame for both of them?

(Nah **** not you)

I swear to God I want to just slit my wrists and end this bull****

Hold a magnum to my head threaten to pull ****

And **** until the bed's completely red

Glad I'm dead, a worthless **** Buddha head

The stress is building up, I can't

I can't believe suicide's on my **** mind

I wanna leave, I swear to God it feel like death is **** calling me

But nah, you wouldn't understand ****

(Talk to me, please man)

You see, it's kind of like the crack did to Poo-poo

In New Jack

Except when I cross over, it ain't no coming back

Should I die on the train track like Ramo in Beat Street

People at the funeral, fronting like they miss me

My baby mama kiss me but she glad I'm gone

She **** me and her sister had something going on

I reached my peak, **** speak

Call my ****, Cheek, tell him that my will is weak

I'm sick of n***** lying, I'm sick of n***** talking

Matter of fact, I'm sick of talking

Written by: Robert A Hall, Christopher Wallace

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